


gutter punk rock

by brandywine421



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s01e08 The Defenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: A figure in black. The flash of a blade. A puddle of Red.He doesn't owe the bastard anything - nothing. Not the Devil or the lawyer. He doesn't have to care - he shouldn't care - he doesn't have to - but someone somewhere would probably tell him that he's lucky to still have the capability to give a good goddamn about anything.Red gave a good goddamn about the woman in black that's flashing those swords in his direction, though. She flashes her swords, closer, too close, and Frank knows he has to decide right now - does he care?It's actually a simple decision now that the woman's close enough for him to make out that her blown pupils - they aren't natural - just like the black sludge dripping from the shard of bone jutting from her thigh isn't natural - huh.





	gutter punk rock

**Author's Note:**

> Totally inspired by that gif-set bouncing around tumblr where it says 'the au where frank rescues daredevil'. Hopefully someone else will do it better, but I can't sleep and that gif is just - mesmerizing.

 

A figure in black. The flash of a blade. A puddle of Red.

He doesn't owe the bastard anything - nothing. Not the Devil or the lawyer. He doesn't have to care - he shouldn't care - he doesn't have to - but someone somewhere would probably tell him that he's lucky to still have the capability to give a good goddamn about anything.

He's got a construction job starting in three weeks. He's got an apartment and not a squat with three months paid out.

Red gave a good goddamn about the woman in black that's flashing those swords in his direction. He's positive Red cradled her dead body for a while before he believed she was gone so what the fuck is she doing here dragging his body out of a gutter?

She flashes her swords, closer, too close, and Frank knows he has to decide right now - does he care?

It's actually a simple decision now that the woman's close enough for him to make out that her blown pupils - they aren't natural - just like the black sludge dripping from the shard of bone jutting from her thigh isn't natural - huh. Guess she is dead.

Good thing he always brings a gun to a knife fight.

 

* * *

 

Turns out, a gun in a knife fight doesn't make a difference if your opponent's already dead. Two clips into the woman's chest and she had still been swinging that broken leg to kick him in the face - he's pretty sure his head's missing a chunk of skull - but at least he limps away with the prize - and he can tell Red that his girl still had enough life in her busted body to curse him all the way to the van.

He gets Red into his apartment by utter luck - fuck divine intervention - tonight's just been a mess of luck - the city's lit up in blue and red and nothing good ever comes out of nights like this.

The building exploded hours ago, but the dead lady seems to have just dragged Red out of the wreckage so if he's half-dead, then he's been that way long enough to consider him on the mend.

He's still leaking blood like a busted sink but Frank can work with bleeding - he just can't work with dead.

Frank leaves him on the bed and mops up the trail of blood they left in the hall before coming back and checking the Devil's bondage gear for zippers before going for his sharpest knife.

He's not worried - he totally doesn't care enough to be worried - until he's stripped the Devil bare and he still hasn't moved a muscle.

Dead weight. Dead.

He peels off the mask and flashes a light in his once lawyer's eyes before he realizes his mistake and goes for the pulse instead.

He's still bleeding so he's still breathing, right? Stitches are easier with no twitches, right? Frank can work with that. The guy's skin looks like a topographical map and he ignores the lines of scars and mountains of bruises to focus on the rivers. He makes railroads with thread and doesn't worry - he's not worried at all.

 

* * *

 

  
He wraps Red's oozing wounds and makes sure that he keeps breathing even if he's not bleeding - much - and refuses to worry about his lack of response after being rolled over and manhandled for the past half-hour.

He's seeing spots, and not the good kind and knows he's fallen behind on triage because he's about to go down - hard - and needs to check what kind of damage he took winning Red from his ninja girl. He can't shake the idea that she was going to show off her kill to whoever raised her from the dead.

Here he is thinking his life is dramatic- vengeance missions aside - ninjas can fuck right off.

He's a mess - a bloody slashed up mess - and she totally did take a chunk out of his head - that -

The sound of retching from the other room breaks though and he almost sobs with relief - but how off brand when he doesn't care - but fuck that - the Devil's alive enough to puke and -

The relief quickly shifts to panic when he sees how dark the vomit and bile is against the already bloody sheets - did the dead lady dose him with that black gunk?

He dares a closer look and - it's ashes - it's ashes and dirt and gutter funk and - thank fuck. "Get it out - cough, choke, spit, puke - whatever you gotta do, just get that shit out of your lungs - "

The guy does as he's told, for once, and isn't that scary as fuck, but Frank leaves him to the bucket he's already filled up with scraps of bandages and rags. He's got some railroads to sew into his own flesh.

 

* * *

   
"You want me to call somebody?" Frank asks when Red's conscious enough to know where he is and why he's not dead. "Karen?"

"Hates me," Matt slurs and Frank never took him for a bald-faced liar - not with his permanent 5-o-clock shadow. Not that he doesn't appreciate the aesthetic, but just saying.

That girl watches Murdock like a fucking wild horse she wants to tame and take home to brush his hair - _oh_. "You told her about the horns? Damn. Nelson, then?"

Matt chokes out another hunk of lung and ashes into the bowl of mess but Frank winces when he realizes it's his attempt at a laugh. "Just me. My priest, was gonna call - "

He can't process that the guy doesn't have anyone he's willing to call for emergencies but then - Frank doesn't have an In Case of Emergency number in any of his burner phones, either.

"Well, if you promise not to die in my bed before dawn - "

"Frank - I can't - I can't see."

He considers it. "Is that new? I thought you weren't faking - "

"My hearing, my taste - I can't - "

"Pass the fuck out, Red, it'll be better when you wake up - I'll keep watch."

He doesn't expect Matt to grasp his fingers and squeeze. "Okay."

It's better than a thank you.  It doesn't mean he cares.  It doesn't mean anything.  But it's okay.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Elektra's totes okay because I love her but - I totally had to figure out how Frank got so busted up in the gif-set without getting tangled up in plot, I'm totes bad at plot lately._ It is so past my bedtime.


End file.
